


‘Happily ever after’ is just what you do.

by Ghost_Writer



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Writer/pseuds/Ghost_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn't believe in happily ever after any more</p>
            </blockquote>





	‘Happily ever after’ is just what you do.

**Author's Note:**

> No idea were this came from, just started writting and ended up with this.

''So I heard you and Megan broke up'' he says. He just turned up on your doorstep, out of the blue and you stand there slightly dumbstruck as he pushes quietly past you and settles himself on the sofa. They’re the first words he’s said to you in months but when you point that out to him he simply shrugs and asks you if you have any Mountain Dew before commandeering the remote. ''Me and Megan...yeah, that was a messy break-up.'' It feels akward when you both watch some television, you don't talk much but he falls asleep with his head on your shoulder that night and somehow that makes it all ok. 

 

*** 

 

The next time you see him it’s in a different city and he’s altogether less comfortable. It’s too hot in the room and for some reason you can't look him in the eye. He found out about Sarah, it had ended by then but you still betrayed him. You remember his words, how hurt he was and you realise that, whilst your affair with Sarah might be over, you quite possible fucked up something that could have been between you two. You aren't here by choice, it is a Speedo-thing, even now your retired you still go. You sit on a podium, behind a table, like so many times before. Neither one of you looks at the other as you silently reach across and take his hand beneath the table. He doesn’t take it away until everyone stands to leave and he doesn’t look you in the eyes when you say your goodbyes. ''Safe journey home'' he says. And you nod as you turn away and get into your car.''

 

***

 

The next time you see him, he looks like hell.  I’ve stopped believing in ‘happily ever after''' he says. And you laugh without really meaning it, watching him throw away the remnants of a cigarette and lean his head against the wall, you never knew he smoked cigarettes, you knew about the odd joint. There’s creases just starting to form more permanently around his eyes. Smile lines, not that he’s smiling now. That makes you uncomfortable. You’re not sure where Nathan and Conor have disappeared to but, for the moment at least, you really don’t care. You take a step closer to him and offer out an arm. You pull him into a tight hug. He smells of smoke but on him you don’t mind it. You tell him that just because ‘happily ever after’ hasn't happend yet, it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Neither one of you is sure if you’re still just talking about your friendship or the relationship you have been in and out of the past 9 years as you stand alone in the cold morning air. 

 

***

 

You’re drunk the next time you’re left alone with him and you suspect that can’t be a good thing. Because you have a track record for idiotic behaviour and unconsciousness when you’ve had too much alcohol and neither of those things can be flattering. But he’s more than tipsy too and he’s smiling and you can’t help but notice his cheeks look rosy when he turns his head towards the light. You lean together conspiratorially for a moment and you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that he is one of the few people who knows every version of you. The douche who slept with half of the American female population, the quietly determined man locked away in a pool swimming up and down ‘til all hours whilst everyone else was out having fun. The somewhat hopeless example of a man you became when you retired, not knowing what to do. The altogether more hopeful, if slightly drunk, man that’s laughing with him now is actually a man that he coaxed out of you back in Athens. A person you always wanted to be but could only seem to latch onto in his presence. And you tilt your head in acknowledgment, because you know as well as he does that this friendship you have is a one-of-a-kind kind of thing. ''Want to go back to my room?'' you ask? He just nods.  

 

''So the press say you have a new girlfriend, is it true?''. You smirk and shake your head, leaning on the doorframe, ''She is my cousin, she wanted to see what a pokertournament was like''. He grins back at you before turning his eyes downwards, looking over the newspapers spread out on the bed in front of him. There’s sunlight coming in through the windows but he isn’t framed by it, you realise, he reflects it. He gets up off the bed and stands by the window in the reflected light and let it turns his eyes into an even more audacious shade of blue, hoping to bring your attention back to me. You ask him what he’s doing tomorrow and he laughs, tells you that he is flying back to Gainsville, for training. You have to laugh at your own stupidity. I meant after that, you explain. He shrugs. Drinks with Nathan and Conor is the best he can come up with. For some reason you can’t bring yourself to ask him for a change of plans. I’ll join you, you tell him. In Gainsville he asks, looking confussed. You just nod.

 

You fly down to Gainsville a few days later. He comes and picks you up from the airport. The car ride to his house is akward and quiet until he breaks the silence. He looks you in the eyes when he asks you what happens next, because strangely, for someone who has been such an integral part of making you enjoy your life again, he always looks to you to take the lead. He lets you into his house, you still haven't answerd the question, the two of you sit side by side on the floor. He hugs his knees and you lean your head backwards and neither of you says a word until at last he takes a breath and leans his own head back. Maybe I could try to start believing in happy ending, he says. You smile softly and put your hand on top of his. We both need to start believing in happy endings again, you remind him. He doesn’t reply but he smiles into the darkness. The two of you stay that way until the sun is just coming up over the city skyline and he wordlessly leaves your room. Whatever will the press say, he says. And it strikes you that you really don’t care.  For the fact he makes you want to have a happy ending, he makes you believe that happy endings is possible, even if he doesn't believe it himself. You love everything about him , you love him for the way that every time he tells a joke he's not satisfied unless he hears you laughing in response. You came over here not because you needed a quick fuck like you had done so many times in the past 8 years. You didn’t even come over here because it’s what you want, although it is what you want that much is true. You came over here because you know Ryan Lochte has been dying for you to kiss him, tell him you love him.   Ever since that night with the Mounain Dew he has been begging for you to help him believe that the both of you can have a happing ending, your happily ever after. A cliché about moths and flames springs to mind as you watch the way the moonlight shines over his skin. He lets you kiss him again and something in the back of your head tells you that, really, this was the only logical conclusion. It slips your mind to ask him if he’s convinced about happy endings yet. 

 

And years later, one night when both your world’s just fallen apart, when both your hearts break, and  the two of you are helping each other put it back together, he will tell you that ‘happily ever after’ is just what you do. And you will know then that the two of you will be ok.


End file.
